Norn, The Slums
Come on, lads. How long does it take to do your business? Squatting on the floor of a derelict warehouse, I rolled back and forth on my heels. The colour had changed in the sky from pitch-black to a deep grey. Fat raindrops leaked through shattered skylights, forming puddles amidst the filth that coated the ground in a mire. What happens when the sun comes up then? My hands kneaded. Feet splashed towards me. "Hey, what's the matter?" The boys flew at me, arms outstretched, and buried their heads in my chest. "What's bit you, me lads?"
"Grrrr." The boys made their hands in to claws and showed their teeth.
"Dogs." A bark sounded in the warehouse, the noise echoing. Hairs on my arms stood erect. "Alright, let's go. Nice and quiet now." I gathered the boys by the shoulders and guided them over to the pair of sliding doors, one of which stood open just wide enough to squeeze my stomach. "What's up?" The twins pulled away from the door, both whining. We don't want to be 'ere when those dogs show up. "C'mon, there's nothing out there!" I growled, sticking my eye to the crack.
"Boo."
"Fuck." I seized the door and hauled it the few inches across to shut it, flinging the locking latch down. Laughter boomed outside. A loud voice crowed something about axes. "Sorry, lads. Shoulda listened to ya." I badgered at the children. They were already running. Straight at the dogs. I stuck a hand out and grabbed the handle of a cart filled with coal fragments, swinging around to a grubby window. "Boys, here! Here!" I worked my forearm across the glass, smearing dirt across it. Anyone out there? I blew dust from the latch and jiggled it. Fucking thing's rusted. One of the boys tugged on the hem of my jumper. "What is it?" He pointed at a winch hanging from a long chain directly above the empty cart. "Smash the glass with that, yeah? Okay." I rushed to the cart and set a foot upon the flat underneath the skip. The boys, one perching upon the other's shoulders, balanced upon the lip of the cart. "How did you…?" The twin beneath launched his brother up to the hook dangling from the winch. "Yes, lads!" I danced beneath the boy and caught him as he fell, bringing the winch with him. Is it on a…? I tugged on the twin cables and dragged the system as close to the window as it would allow me. "Cover your eyes now, boys." I placed the crook of my elbow against my brow. The twins turned away and covered their ears. With the flaking iron in both hands, I drew it back and heard a crackle of splintering wood. Shit. The hook drowned out the axes, loudly, but pane by pane, the glass gave out. "C'mon…Bastard." I swung the hook sideways, clearing any little shards left over then leant down and cupped my hands. The twins shimmied through the opening, leaving the jagged maw above them undisturbed. With nothing to boost me, I clawed at the iron frame, my shoulders dislodging fragments. A frantic panting below propelled me through the rest of the way. With glass glittering in my hair, I slid down to the boys, belly-landing in the mud outside. Bloody dogs! "Run, lads." I flung an arm at the adjacent warehouse. "Iggery."
Stones in their fists, the boys hurled them at a shoulder-height window. Each kicked at a faggot of sticks and scooped one up from the pile. "C'mon, smash it."
"They're round the side!"
"Oh, God. They're coming. Boys!" I pushed the boys aside and forced my shoulder against the glass. Bits nicked at my skin and cut through the material of my jumper, dragging lines across my shoulder. "Go on. Up! Up!" I wrapped my arms around a twin's waist and deposited him through the window. "You next."
"Get the dogs!"
"Keep going. Don't wait." The opening the boys had disappeared through choked my shoulders. Half-in, half-out, I squirmed. "Go on. I'll catch up." Their fall arrested by a crate, the boys took my arms and pulled. "Nah, it's not working. I'll go 'round." I wormed backwards. "Don't wait 'ere, just run." My boots regained the ground outside. Running feet and the gallop of dog's paws filled the space between the warehouses. What do I do? Raindrops oozed down my brow and inside my eyes. A ladder hung from a scaffold ten feet out of my reach. Two dark flecks appeared at the lip of the scaffold and jimmied the ladder, coating my face with droplets. The ladder slid down to me, screeching on its rails. I caught the side and mounted the rungs. Hands grabbed a bunch of my collar and pulled me up on to the platform. "Good lads," I panted. A pair of slobbering hounds pawed at the foot of the ladder. "Help me." I hauled at the rungs. "Help me, lads."
"I see you." An axe-armed man in rags leapt for the rungs and brought them back down to the ground. "They're here!"
I bundled the twins back inside the warehouse, paused to wipe my face down, then pushed them on. In places, the warehouse floor was nothing but see-through grates. Where machinery had once been situated only dirty outlines remained, along with dust. Chains of conveyor belts sat immobile. "Come on." I patted the boys on their shoulders. "Quiet now."
"Over here."
"Huh?" I drew the boys close. "D'you 'ear that? Sounds like your mum."
"Direl." Both pulled at my arms. "Direl." Feet thundered upon the ladder rungs.
"Danger. Yeah." I slithered underneath a conveyor after the twins. At least they can't bring the dogs up the ladder. The boys waited for me to clamber out from underneath the conveyor then bellied underneath the adjacent. I spat out the dust they kicked up and stifled a sneeze.
"Spread out. They can't have gone far!"
What's pushing them after us like this? They're just kids. I swiped my arms down and beat a cloud of dust from my jumper. "Where you going?" The boys dived at a square hole where the conveyor dipped and travelled to the floor below. Can I get through there?
A shadow fell from the rafters and landed in a squat atop the highest conveyor. Laspistols sprung from sleeves. I flung myself over the boys. The following screams came from our pursuers as, standing stall, the shadow opened fire, dual laspistols shrieking. After each volley, the assailant twirled his weapons, striking poses in between shots. I pushed the boys down the chute and scrambled after them. A coarse, springy material greeted my hands and knees. "Go, lads, go!" I tumbled down the belt after the boys. The twin laspistols continued firing above us. "Don't wait, keep going down." I jabbed a finger at the boys. "Down, down."
One floor up from the ground, I spotted a square of light and swivelled the boys around to face it. "Go there. Go there." A chute, this one covered, dropped down near vertical. "Down the slide, boys." Both took a look down the chute but neither moved. "Alright, I'll go first." I gripped the sides of the opening and swung through. Wind whipped me in the face. The seat of my trousers burned. A whump and I rolled sideways in a cloud of soot, my back slamming against the side of a skip. "Aww!" I gnashed my teeth and cracked the side of my fist against the skip. "Fuck." I floundered in the mountain. My hand dug in to the pile, scooping out fistfuls. "Lads. Oi, down 'ere." A shape hurtled at me. "Shi—" Bowled backwards, I caught the boy in my arms. "S'alright, I gotcha. Where's the other, uh?" I tapped the boy's cheek. "You're alright." The other landed a second after his brother. "Ooh. There's a good lad." I pinched his cheek. "Off we go." I got a boot upon the lip of the skip and vaulted out, setting off at a jog with the twins close at my heels. C'mon, let's have some luck. I stood on tiptoes and scanned around for a landmark. North, south, east, west? The twins took off across a set of tracks. "Stay low. Stay low." I followed the twins around a line of cars with hoppers. Grass grew up from the sleepers. Every rail I crossed was rusted red. At a boundary fence, the twins ducked through a gap then stopped to hold up a section for me to crawl through. "Thanks, boys." I set the broken piece of fence back in place. No barks or shouting pursued us. "Which way to your mum then?"
A crackle lanced behind my shoulders. I jumped and followed the finger one of the twins was pointing along the fence. A smoking muzzle aimed at me. "GO!" I bolted for a heave of shanties. The twins, ahead of me, ran along a winding street. Where the fuck are we going? I careered through hanging drapes, kicking over somebody's stewing pot. "Slow down!" Fists and curses were hurled at me by residents. Chamber pots tumbled from on high. Piss, splashing at my feet, ran in to a gutter that snaked along the middle of the street. "Lads?" I made a left, caught myself when I glimpsed them running the other way, and tacked on. "Shit, dead end." I bounced on my heels, ran, and jumped at a brick wall. My hands found the top and I pulled myself up and swung a leg over. Straddling the wall, I lifted my other leg over and lay on my belly. "Grab me 'and." A twin leapt and caught ahold. "That's it." I dragged him along the bricks and nearly threw him over the other side. "C'mon, son!" I leant down again. Bricks exploded underneath me. Boiled cement and brick showered the boy. A shadow raised laspistols and took aim at me. I slipped over the wall and down the other side. The boy shrieked and charged at the wall. "No-no-no." I took the child in my arms and ran. "I'm sorry, son. I'm sorry." The boy wailed, his outstretched arm over my shoulder, his hand wide open.
Stiff and sweaty, Izuru traipsed between rows of steel pens. In each one, swine rolled amongst chunks of bloody meat. "Like what you see, Bareknuckle?" Oruc Veen dumped a shovel-full of meat from a bucket held by a lackey to the swine. Another lackey, ahead of Izuru, stumped behind Veen. Saeros walked at Izuru's shoulder and four more of Veen's toughs brought up the rear. Once more, binds restrained Izuru's and Saeros's hands behind their backs. "Can't say they've ever sampled foreign cuisine before. Thought I'd introduce them to it. Slowly mix it in with the regular grub."
My lady.
Izuru.
Izuru…
Do not think about it, Saeros. Izuru opened her hands and placed them against Saeros's stomach. I am here.
"You listening to me, Stonefist?"
"Is this the scenic part of the tour?"
"Your young friend might not find that so funny if you continue on that tangent, my love."
"I have high hopes for your best."
"Do we have a ball-gag handy, San?"
"John was using it last, Boss. He likes a good tulip, he does."
"San, San?" John raised a fist from behind Saeros. "I want you to imagine this fist travelling through the xenos and down your throat."
"Get back in your pram, John! San, make sure the passage to the cathedral is clear. I don't want to be scraping pigshit from my shoes afterwards. I just had 'em polished."
"Right, Boss."
"And you, stickie, you save your breath for the slugga. Bloody women, seen and not heard! Ain't that right, Osmin?"
"Damn right, Boss."
"Can't we just hang 'em, Boss?"
"It was a rhetorical question, John. I'm making a statement with the xenos here. You, Knocker, are no different from any of the other silly sods who've passed through here, and in fact you're lucky you've even got this far." Veen loosened the silk scarf around his neck. "Got me so angry I can barely think. Now, I trust you'll behave yourself in the ring, stickie. No low-blows and the like, or open hands for that matter."
I hate the sound of his voice, Izuru. He sounds loud and arrogant.
Ignore his words. Observe his actions, Saeros.
"Short and sweet, I'm feeling, so it's five rounds of three-minute bouts. You got that?"
Rhetorical question. Izuru's nose wrinkled. The smell of this place!
On from the pens, a large room was host to a five-foot-deep square pit with ferrocrete walls. One very long blood trail had dried upon the floor which not even the spread of sawdust could soak up. Steel cages, stacked in towers of four, held hounds of various size. Beast-fighting? Only Commorragh's society stoops as low as to pit animals against one another.
"Going outside in a minute, ladies, so mind your heads and watch your toes." A sack was flung over Izuru's head.
Here we go, Saeros. Stay behind me.
The Scorpr Bridge, 08:53
"Any word on the armour?" Captain Hector Pieyn, Officer Commanding Support Company, Joparr 500, stuck his head in to the troop compartment of his command Chariot. "Six, any word on the armour?"
"Nothing, sir."
Bother all. We've been hearing them for the past five minutes. Now where the hell are they? Pieyn leant against one of the rear doors and checked the chrono dangling from a loop on the breast of his body armour. Eight minutes down, seven until jump-off. "Sarn't Major—" Pieyn broke off. The battalion commander approached with his own headquarters. "Colonel, we're still waiting for the tanks to show up. Are we – are we to go without?"
Colonel Orisko slapped a flare pistol in to Pieyn's hand. "Wise for his years, the governor has seen fit to lay on a show after our departure from the slums. He plans to bomb the living shit out of the squalid proletariat of human decadence so he can renovate."
"Sir, he's what?" Pieyn broke the flare pistol and checked the bore. "Or rather what is he intending to bomb the slums with?"
"His private air force." Orisko sighed. "Twenty-four old junkers are – allegedly – coming in at ten to flatten the old city centre. "
"…Was that mentioned at the briefing, sir?" Pieyn laughed.
"Apparently he got out of bed a certain way this morning and decided a grand renovation should ride to the very top of his manifesto."
"And we're now working to this timetable?"
"Green flare once the company's clear from the zone. Red flare to abort the strike. Callsigns are the same." Orisko turned away.
"Sir, I think Support Company's skills can be better used elsewhere."
"Most definitely, Captain, but we do as we're told by the politicians."
"They know best, do they?" Pieyn folded his arms and stuck the flare pistol in a hip pocket of his smock.
"There's your armour!" Orisko raised two fingers to his ear and remounted his Python. "Good luck!"
So, after we're done shooting them up, we're dropping bombs on them. Pieyn pinched his lower lip. That's an atrocity waiting to happen, and we're supposed to be fighting against evil, not spreading it, secessionists though they may be; they're all human.
"Sir." Six passed a handset attached to his vox to Pieyn. "Tanga."
"Hello Tanga, this is Grota Zero-Alpha. Over."
"Grota Zero Alpha, this is Tanga One-Zero-Alpha. Reading you strength five. Over."
"This is Grota Zero-Alpha. Received and understood."
"Roger. Out."
"Captain." The mortar platoon's commander appeared at Pieyn's shoulder.
"Yeah?" Pieyn leant inside the Chariot and returned the vox handset.
"Sir, there's crowds forming either side of the road on the east bank. No particular aggro right now."
"Right, can you round up Anti-tank and Stubber's troop commanders. Get their sergeants too. Let them know we're moving as soon as the tanks are folded in to the march order. I've gotta go speak to them now." Pieyn jogged over to a foursome of old Mark V tanks clattering along the waterfront. God-Emperor, they don't half make a din. They've been coming down that road for ten minutes too! Pieyn waved at the lead tank commander who stood upright in his cupola beside a .50-calibre Krupnok. Wires trailed down from his padded helmet. A laspistol sat in a holster upon his breastplate. Teeth trembling in his gums, Pieyn called out to the tank commander. Shaking his head, the tank commander spoke in to the mic at his throat and the earth-jarring roar subsided.
"I…" Pieyn slapped his ear. "Can your bulldozers take the point?"
The tank commander chortled. "Do keep up now, Guard."
"Hold on!" Pieyn's voiced was lost to the rising scream of the engine. With a jolt, the beast lurched forward. Pieyn sprang out of the way of the sloping bulldozer blade and ran back to his Chariot. "Six, you still got Tanga?"
"Sir."
"Hello Tanga, this is Grota Zero-Alpha. Why are your Ironsides in combat posture? Over."
"Tanga. Do follow my callsign closely, Grota. H-hour commences in fifteen seconds. Out."
Out? Pieyn stared at the handset. I sent the traffic. I declare end traffic once I'm done. What's he playing at? The interior of the Chariot shook as the two tanks trundled past and sidled in to position at the head of the column. The lead tank's flank ground against the side railing, producing sparks. "Six, get me Sunray." Why are their guns facing forwards?
"Captain, I told the other troop commanders jump-off is imminent. Why are the tank turrets the other way?"
"Yeah, that's exactly what I was thinking." Pieyn slapped the handset against his palm. "I'm gonna talk to Sunray about this."
Black smoke belched from the tank's exhausts. First one then the other rolled forwards on to the bridge. "Err…Captain."
"Shit." Pieyn hurled the handset inside the Chariot. "Where's the sarn't major? Sarn't Major, mount 'em up! Let's move!"
"Move! Move! Move!" The company sergeant major dashed up and down the line of parked Chariots, Pythons, and Joparr's single Horus, chivvying up idle paras. The Lairs platoon NCOs, further back, saw to their own men.
"Start her up, Sergeant. Let the Horus go first." Pieyn hopped in to the passenger seat and shut his door. "Fucking politicians!"
"Well, if this goes tits-up, it's not on us." The Joparr sergeant shunted the chariot in to gear.
Unless they scapegoat us. Pieyn turned to his signaller. "Six, have you got Sunray yet?"
Six lifted one arm of his headset. "Sunray and Sunray Minor are unavailable, sir."
He was just talking to me. Pieyn fumed. Through the viewing slit in his door, he watched the six-wheeler drive past. I suppose that's been fully armed too. The 3-inch snout pointed at the tank's rear end. "Alright, Sergeant."
The long line of armoured vehicles cruised across the bridge after the tanks. Pieyn eyed the crowd of civilians gathered on the other side of the barbed-wire on the east bank. No bricks, rocks, or bottles came his way. Blank faces simply watched the procession pass. "Six. Troop commanders."
"Sir."
"All Grota callsigns, this is Grota Zero Alpha. ROE in effect. No firing unless fired upon. Declare your targets. Over."
"This is Four-Zero Alpha. Roger. Over."
"This is Five-Zero Alpha. Received and understood. Over."
"Six-Zero Alpha. Wilco. Over."
"This is Grota Zero Alpha. Keep eyes peeled. Out."
The Slums
"You've got two minutes then you're out in the ring."
Sealed in a tiny room with Saeros, Izuru paced the few feet of space, tested her weight upon the floor, and knocked on the wood panels. "Izuru?" Saeros folded his arms across his chest, his head drooping.
"Warm your muscles, Saeros. Be ready to fight whoever the humans throw at you." Izuru rolled her neck and shoulders. "Now, Saeros!" Izuru reached behind her head and felt for her bun. Several hairs had sprung loose and stuck out sideways like whiskers. A long strand holding her hair in place dangled down the back of her neck. Nothing flaps or trails behind me. Izuru tucked it inside the neck of her compression shirt then pulled down on the hem at her waist, flattening her chest as much as possible. Nothing I can do about that. "Tie your hair back tightly, Saeros. Dart from one foot to the other. Please do not remain idle. Fists up!" Izuru jabbed at Saeros, first with her right then with her left. Saeros raised his forearms feebly. "And kick!" Izuru dropped back on to her feet and placed her hands upon Saeros's shoulders. "Look at me. Stand idle and share your brother Corsair's fate or take action and show the lesser species why they should fear you."
"They do not fear me."
"Now is the not the time for doubt. Seize opportunity, stand up and fight. I cannot be your crutch."
"Kill me. Better at your own hand than theirs or the princess's. Let your face be my last glimpse. Then I will die happy."
Izuru's eyes fell to her feet then she danced back and tilted her head. "Strike me upon the cheek. Fear not." Saeros's fist lashed out, snapping Izuru's head around. "Good." She brushed the red mark on her skin. "Now swing." Saeros swung his right fist at Izuru's face. Izuru dipped her knees and ducked around the swing. "We play by their rules." Izuru hit Saeros's side with her right then brought her left downwards across his brow. "Rules, however, exist only to appease war-makers and politicians who believe that wars can be conducted with civility. Only those that have never seen war firsthand believe rules apply – hit me with your forearm!" Saeros dove in. Izuru caught Saeros by the forearm and clamped it underneath her armpit. "Your groin is now open." She raised her knee. "Hush now. The humans approach." Izuru and Saeros parted and leant against opposite walls. One of Veen's humans nudged the door in with his foot.
"Put these on and follow us out. He stays." Hand wraps were tossed in.
"Good luck," Saeros mumbled, his eyes downcast.
"Luck exists in the minds of the gambler and the speculator. We are beings of certainty." Izuru wound the wraps around her hands and flexed her fingers. "Victory shall lie broken and bloodied at my feet when this fight is over."
"Took your sweet time sorting yourself out, lovely. Still, I like to keep the crowd waiting." Veen stood outside in the middle of his men. "It's a packed house today so I expect a full fist-throwing from the likes of you, Iznesh."
Inezh. Fists and fingers prodded Izuru's back. Two humans walked in front and behind, separating her from Veen. The passage soon grew so tight that single file became necessary. "Wouldn't mind another pair o' pointy little darlings to hang on my mantlepiece, Ballistics."
Ballistics? Izuru, frowning, tied the ends of the wraps down.
"No biting, no eye-gouging, fists only. D'you get all that?"
"Prepare a stretcher."
"Uh?" Veen paused mid-stride and stared over his shoulder at Izuru.
"Prepare a stretcher. Your best will need it."
A hum of chatter coming from above swelled as the party climbed a set of stone steps leading up to a trapdoor. "You might call it heresy holding a bareknuckle bout in our place of worship." Veen grinned. "Open her up, John." John grasped a rope attached to a pulley and hauled. "I call it business." Light sliced across Izuru. The humans around her covered their eyes. Hands upon Izuru's shoulder moved her forwards in Veen's wake. "Try not to look any sod in the eye."
A roar greeted Izuru. Crushed against one another, humans in their hundreds packed the cathedral's nave, aisles, and transepts. "We put money on this fight, bastard!" A human shook his fist at Veen. His outburst prompted an onrush of humans piling against the cordon around Izuru and Veen. Fists and legs pummelled the toughs. Urgh, rabid animals. Izuru fixed her eyes on Veen's back. Howls cut through the noise. "Witch!"
"Xenos bitch!"
"You die here today!"
"Knives slice your breasts off!"
"Pierce its cunt with razors!"
"Who am I to face?"
"Never you mind, Iznesh." Veen mopped his brow with a spotted handkerchief. "When you're in the ring, you're on your own. So, behave yourself."
One word from his mouth and the hordes devour me. Izuru slipped underneath a rope held up for her by Veen's bodyguards and stepped in to the ring. Hard surface underfoot. No irregularities. Izuru paced the square, ignoring the leers and profanity catapulted at her. A glass bottle soared over the crowd, a scant blur in Izuru's vision. Her hand shot out and caught the bottle. A gasp whipped through the baying mass. Izuru set the bottle down in a corner and turned to look up at Veen and an announcer with a megaphone upon an elevated platform overlooking the central aisle. Now send me the prey.
"From the deepest, darkest depths of the wildest regions of deep space slithers a duplicitous xenos champing at its bit to floor our best – ESTOC!" Applause and shrieks broke out as two clawed feet appeared through the crowd.
Kaela. Izuru left the balls of her feet and stared. Two metal struts attached to claws poked out of a pair of shortened trousers. Everything from the knees down had been lost. How does he move with such grace? Estoc manoeuvred himself through the boundary and cracked his knuckles. Six feet two, maybe 280 pounds. Estoc matched Izuru's height to the inch and far outweighed her. Does he even blink? Izuru met the muscle's eye. Estoc brought his slab-hands together and approached Izuru. Izuru rolled her fists and tapped them against Estoc's hands.
Ding.
Estoc rammed his forehead against Izuru's face. Izuru staggered back as a roar surged through the crowd. Estoc's hands reached for her face, the brute's claws carrying him forwards. Izuru lurched her upper body back, her spine bending. Estoc's fists blurred. Izuru's forearms took the brunt of the beating. She swept around on her heel, her lower leg delving underneath the cavity beneath the human's ribcage then following on with another kick aimed at his breast. Estoc trapped Izuru's leg between his arm and his body and pelted his fist at her chin. The incoming blow slowed to a crawl. Decision. Retaliate. Izuru cracked Estoc underneath his chin with her left hand. Estoc's fist came all the same. Roll. Izuru's head swept sideways, Estoc's hand flashing past. Still trapped, Izuru punched her forehead at the bridge of Estoc's nose. The soft bone gave way, splintering beneath the skin. A grunt tore from Estoc's sweat-flecked lips. At once, his hold relaxed. With both legs free, Izuru whipped around, the top of her foot battering Estoc's neck. Carried sideways, Estoc stamped upon the floor, the claws digging in. Izuru led with her left leg, targeting the soft spot in Estoc's side then immediately struck out with an overarm punch with her right. Estoc's head twitched. His expression remained unchanged. Kurnous! Izuru's blows fell upon Estoc's shoulders. The retaliating hook dropped Izuru's guard long enough for Estoc to power in and sink his paw in to Izuru's stomach and propel her at the rope. In Estoc's embrace, Izuru beat against his sides. The chime of the bell was followed by a bellow of, "Time! Fucking break it!"
Estoc loped away. A towel, flung at him from the crowd, he caught and wiped his face with. Wavers and articles of clothing were thrust at him. Why does he ruin the material with scribblings? Izuru leant on her knees and rested her back against a post. Those nearest to her offered nothing but baleful looks. Do you know something I don't? Izuru kept her eyes on Estoc.
On commencement of the second round, Izuru flung herself at Estoc, her fists pumping back and forth. His arms protecting his face, Estoc gave ground. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. Izuru wrenched Estoc's head down on to her knee after battering at his guard. Whilst down, Estoc's hands grabbed Izuru's legs and began pulling. Izuru slapped her hands against Estoc's ears then cracked her knee against his head. Estoc reeled away, his hand covering the broken bridge of his nose. First blood.
Booing resonated from the crowd. Surprised? Izuru glanced up at Veen, watching from the platform with the announcer. What runs through your mind now, human? Much money will be lost here today. Estoc rounded upon Izuru, opening up. Izuru counted off the incoming blows. Left, right, uppercut, straight right. Her forearms burned. Estoc's next swing skipped over Izuru's shoulder. Izuru dealt a right hook at Estoc's face, connected with his temple then swung a backhand blow. She pivoted a full turn, straightened her right arm and brought the forearm crashing in to Estoc's temple. A sheen of sweat coated the human. Both combatants lowered their fists and parted to their corners of the ring at the sound of the bell. Estoc tapped his fists against those of a child's and ruffled its hair. A flask of liquid he declined. How many rounds of this again? Izuru squatted against the post and rubbed her face on her sleeve. Calm. Breath easy. The post at Izuru's back trembled. The floor underneath her boots began vibrating. No frequent occurrence? The noise of the crowd died away. Mutterings turned to chatter. Estoc no longer faced his fans and instead gazed at a spot on the floor, his brows low over his eyes.
"You know the drill, ladies and gentlemen. Pack yourself and your families down to the crypt. Anybody with cellars, get there and stay there!"
"Grandma." Estoc beckoned. "You alright getting down to the crypt now?"
"My boy, you be following me down there now. No more hanging around with strange xenos." An elderly human reached through the rope to Estoc. "You'd have had her in the fifth. Mark my words."
Estoc knelt down. "She fights like a wild animal, Grandma. Dead heat, that's my bet. I hope you didn't put money on me."
"Oh!" Estoc's grandma slapped his knee.
"Off you go, Grandma. I'll be along in a bit."
The humans, too preoccupied with dispersing, had left Izuru alone. Far too many to attempt escape now. Exits are blocked. The windows are too high. Izuru scanned the various large holes in the vaulted ceiling letting the early morning light in. Not a chance. A whistle came from the raised platform. Veen, a scowl on his face, waved at Izuru. "Come here," he mouthed.
"Boss's waiting, xenos." The cavalry sabre slid over the rope, its tip aiming at Izuru. "Look alive now."
Armoured beasts prowl freely. Izuru extended her ears and shut her eyes. Steel tracks and cannon institute imperial peace in all its hypocrisy.
"Hello?" The tip of the blade pricked the mesh of Izuru's sleeve.
How easy it is to be brave on the other end of a weapon. Izuru left the ring. The sabre, joined by other hand weapons, never left her. Another rumble shook the glass in the windows. Running her tongue around her teeth, Izuru unwound her wraps and dropped them on the stone floor. A human pointed her up a narrow flight of spiralling stairs leading up to Veen.
"Made a lotta folks unhappy with that performance you did, darling."
Izuru's right eyebrow arched. "I expected better from your man."
"It was the second round, stickie. You don't knock a man out in the second unless you want a lynching happening in short order."
"Why?"
"A rigged bout upsets stomachs, and shortly after that tables. Leaves a sour taste in the mouth if you know what I mean." Veen gestured at a pair of crates sitting upon a table against the wall. "You do recognise these. I know you do."
"Nothing to do with me. I was the courier."
"You're really not that much use to me alive, are you? Or rather, that boy's not much use to me alive."
Ah, Saeros. Izuru clasped her hands behind her back. "I am listening."
"Good, 'cause the neighbours have their music turned up too loudly, and I want you to demonstrate with these shooters why it's a very bad idea." Veen flipped the catches off and opened the lid. "Now, this one looks like an anti-tank launcher, recoilless rifle-thing. The other one's got some whacked-out antenna attached; I'm guessing anti-air. I want you to crack open one of the guv'nor's party-wagons and cook any daft cunts inside. Does that make perfect sense?"
"Are you prepared, from a logistics standpoint, to wage a war against a mechanised enemy that has control of the skies?"
"Air power's got no clout here. It's too built-up. Same thing with armour. It's too built-up an area to operate tanks and cars, leaving manpower the enemy's only option. It's a statement we seek, not a victory, though one enemy tank destroyed is a victory for us. Same goes for any of the guv'nor's bully-boys, Tin Men, or Imperial troops, ain't that right, lads?" A chorus of 'yeah' rang from Veen's bodyguards. "Right, John, you fetch the stickie some combats."
"My companion—"
"Is staying right with me for now. Don't you worry 'bout him. You just get intimate with this bangstick. I want my confirmed armour kill."
Have you any idea the horror you bring upon your people? Izuru kept quiet about that.
The thunder of the lead tank's Krupnok jerked Captain Pieyn very nearly out of his seat. "What the hell's he firing at?" Pieyn twisted to take the vox handset from his signaller. "You got Tanga, Six?"
"Yes, sir."
"Hello Tanga, this is Grota Zero Alpha. What are you engaging? Over." The commander of the Horus swept the street in front of the tanks with his glasses, turned back to Pieyn, and shook his head.
"Dunno what they're engaging up there, sir."
"Hello Tanga, this is Grota Zero Alpha. What are you engaging? Over."
"Sir, Ezra wants to speak to you." Pieyn's driver pointed at the Horus commander. The sergeant tapped his intercom then pointed at Pieyn.
"Shit. No reply from Grota. Get me Ezra, Six."
"Roger." The signaller turned his vox around in his lap and adjusted frequencies. "Ezra, sir."
"Hello Ezra Five-One, Grota Zero Alpha speaking. Can you see what Tanga is engaging? Over."
"Hello Grota Zero Alpha, this is Ezra Five-One. Tanga has returned fire with his pintle Fifty on unknown target. Over."
"Say again your last."
"Ezra Five-One. I cannot see what Tanga is engaging. His target is blocked by a building. Over."
"Roger…Out." Pieyn rubbed the handset with his thumb. "I'm getting out. Six, on me."
"Sir!" Pieyn's signaller exited the rear of the Chariot and ran around to Pieyn. "Sir, I've got Four-Zero Alpha on the other end."
"This is Zero Alpha."
"Hello Zero Alpha, this is Four-Zero Alpha. What are we engaging? Over."
We're not engaging anything! "This is Zero Alpha. Tanga has returned fire on unknown target out of my line of sight. Keep this channel clear—"
The lead tank's main battery exploded, a wreath of smoke surrounding the fat muzzle. A rush of warm air ballooned down the street. Pieyn and his signaller fell against the flank of the Chariot. "Keep this channel clear. Over!" Pieyn squeezed the handset against his ear, his other hand covering his free ear. "Six, get back in the vehicle." Pieyn tossed the handset at the signaller and knelt behind the rear of the Horus. The tank commander poked his head out of his cupola, seized the grips of his Krupnok and fired. One continuous thunderclap battered at Pieyn's ears. Fucking hell, that's loud! Pieyn waited for the commander to cease fire then ran out past the Horus. You'd better hold your fire, Ezra.
At the rear of the second tank, Pieyn opened a compartment and plucked a wired handset out. "This is Grota Zero Alpha, put me in contact with your sunray at once!"
"Hello Grota Zero Alpha, this is Tanga One-One Delta. If you want to speak to my sunray, use the other unit. Over."
"Roger. Out." Pieyn slammed the handset back in its case. Darting around the Mark V's flank, Pieyn scooted to the troop commander's tank. You'd better have a bloody good explanation for opening fire! "Hello Tanga One-Zero Alpha, this is Grota Zero Alpha. What are you engaging? Over." Another thunderous roar as the Krupnok belted out a stream of lead. Pieyn replaced the handset and climbed on to the rear deck, stepping on to a grill covering the chugging engine. Pieyn leant across and shook the troop commander's shoulder. "What are you—?" The troop commander raised the flap of his helmet. "What are you engaging?"
"Muzzle flash. Fifth storey building to my ten o'clock. Eighty yards." The commander removed his glasses and passed them to Pieyn.
Pieyn glassed the target. "Well there aren't any storeys left of that building, Sergeant, you've just about obliterated it. Did you have incoming rounds?"
The commander shrugged and pulled back on the Krupnok's charging handle. An unfired cartridge dropped from the underside of the weapon. "Are you staying or going?"
"Fucking trigger-happy bastards!" Pieyn leapt inside his Chariot as it drew alongside him.
"Did they have contact or not, sir?"
"I don't know, Sarn't. Six?"
"Sir, Zero for you."
"This Grota Zero Alpha. Over."
"This is Zero, Sunray speaking. What were the rounds we just heard? Over."
"Zero Alpha reports Tanga's Ironsides engaged and destroyed enemy position in multi-storey building at Tanga's ten o'clock, eighty yards to our front. Target obliterated. I say again, target obliterated. Over."
"Roger. Keep updating me. Out."
"Fuck…" Pieyn opened and closed his fist. His left knee began jiggling. His chrono read 09:19. Just let us all come through this in one piece.
The earth groaned. Stray hounds barked at a procession of ragged civilians brandishing firearms in the air and chanting at the tops of their voices. Rifles and automatics against tanks? They'll be slaughtered. Izuru hopped the three-foot gap between buildings, the anti-tank launcher clamped underneath her arm. Seven of Veen's soldiers accompanied her, all in camouflage, body armour, and hard cover. A baggy, faded smock with frilled cuffs covered Izuru's compression shirt. A ceramite helmet with a blotchy green cover wobbled around on her head.
"Set up here." John thumbed Izuru to kneel beside him. "Got a food field of fire."
"We have a better view across the street. In defilade. Once I fire, we displace to secondary position—"
"Shut up." John curled his hand and swiped it at Izuru. Izuru caught it and began squeezing.
"Oi, enough o' the foreplay!" Rifle muzzles rushed at Izuru. She caught sight of her Lugo's six-slot flash-hider amongst them.
I think that one is mine.
"Aaah, you fucking—" John shook his reddened hand. "I'm gonna cut off those tits and feed 'em to the dogs!"
"John, John!" Errol tapped his ear. "Listen. You hear that? Malky's armour's rolling up."
"Just get that fucking AT ready. Don't fucking fire until I say."
Izuru peered down at the human trail snaking through the streets. The cathedral's spire stood above the rooftops to the northwest. The building opposite her was five storeys of flat red brick and shattered glass. Precious few of the slums' residents were trickling inside, most electing to remain on the street.
"Time is it, Rosey?"
A soldier bearing a belt-fed stubber replied. "'Bout twenty past nine."
"Quick time for a brew-up?"
"Tea'll be too hot when we get contact. Set that fucking Granin up, son." John gave a thumbs-up to a unit of militia setting up on top of the building across the street from the marchers. "Got them grenades handy, Errol?"
"Taped four of 'em together. Make a good tank-killer if we drop 'em from up here."
"Check. Fuel bombs?"
A human shook a sack from his shoulder. "Six bottles ready to go."
"Spread your fire along the rooftops before the turning below us. The tanks must slow to a crawl before they turn south. Strike as one," Izuru said.
John held up three fingers. "San, Elsa, and Rosey. You three take a grenade bundle and fuel bomb each and head along the roofs. Wait for the rocket launcher to fire then drop your bombs." John leant over the edge with a pair of glasses. "Yep, that's our recce boys back." Izuru followed the human's point of interest. A quadbike cut through the crowds below, two of Veen's soldiers riding. The driver signalled John. "Right, we're on. Barricades should be in place."
Has this been rehearsed? Izuru laid the green tube down and opened a container bearing three cylinders housing the warheads. Izuru popped open the protective casing and slid the round out. Etched in to the cylinder were notches with numbers ranging between zero and 10 with a Y-shape in the centre of the weapon denoting range. Point-blank range. Izuru twisted the nose back from 400 yards to zero. She unlocked the launcher's swing-out bore and, checking the tube was clear, slipped a chunky cartridge in. Are these even anti-tank? The letters and numbers printed on the cartridge meant nothing to her, not to mention the coloured ring, which was black. FFV502. Impact or delayed fuse, I wonder? Did it even occur to these humans to check?
"How many?" John shouted down to the humans on the quadbike. "How many?"
"Two tanks, an armoured car, and a bunch of Sixers."
"Infantry?"
"Packed in the Sixers."
"How many Sixers?"
"I Dunno."
"Take off."
Loaded, cocked, safety on. Simple. Izuru lifted the launcher on to her right shoulder and squared up to the telescopic sights. Ah, I must fire this left-handed. No matter. How deep have you dug your rathole to sit out the coming storm, Whelp? Not deep enough, I imagine.
"Keep them ballistics in check now. Nothing for you to shoot at yet." Heavy automatic gunfire buzzed through the streets in the distance. The rooftop began to quiver. Tiles on the slanted sections of the roof slid off and fell in to the street. The rattle of tracks and squeak of road wheels increased.
They certainly have something to shoot at. Izuru rested the launcher in her lap and waited. John and the other three humans sat facing inwards, their fingers resting near the triggers of their weapons, eyes on Izuru. The humans on the rooftop opposite were leaping the gaps between their buildings and hunkering down. A globule of spit landed at Izuru's feet. A human female, the Lugo cradled in her arms, launched another flurry of spittle at Izuru.
"Now's the time." John shook a packet of cigarettes and tossed one to the woman. "Blow, don't spit. Let's see some smoke rings now." Lighting up, the woman blew clouds of grey smoke at Izuru. Izuru remained stock-still. Tank armour is weakest on top and below. One round from the launcher will be enough to bring the lead tank to a halt and bottle up the other vehicles. Surprise, the most potent of all assets, will then grant me a kill-shot.
"Loud, aren't they. Is that a horn?"
"It's changing direction. Our barricades are funnelling them along one road."
"Feels like an earthquake shaking my teeth loose. Mmmn."
"Want a peep?" John flashed a hand-mirror.
And see the light reflect. Izuru folded her arms and rested her chin upon her chest. When was this last washed?
Screams peaked above the pop-pop-pop of rifles. A heavy automatic – 0.5-calibre – boomed. "Louts." John peered over the wall. Izuru followed his eyes and saw civilians in ones and twos dancing about at the far end of the street loosing off rounds. Puffs of dirt kicked up around them. Several fell. The others made off. "Here we go, here we go." John signalled the other humans to stay still. "Stay down, xenos. Don't fire, don't fire. Wait 'til the armour's beneath us."
It is not I you need worry about. Many trigger-fingers itch, and none of them are mine. Izuru, her cheek against the edge of the wall, watched a muzzle brake followed by a long gun tube edge in to view at the end of the street.
"Grota Zero Alpha, Tanga One-Zero Alpha. Sigma Eight-Two advises alternate route. We have groups of militia prepped for ambush on the rooftops on both sides of our street. Over."
"This is Grota Zero Alpha. How many and how are they armed?" Pieyn motioned the driver to halt. The Horus in front had left a hair's breadth of breathing room.
"Cutting it a bit fine there, sir." Pieyn's driver took the Chariot out of gear and set the handbrake.
"This is Tanga One-Zero. Wait. Out."
Pieyn released the transmit button. "There's militia on both sides of the street on the roofs up ahead."
"The Ironsides'll want us to recce ahead first." The sergeant tapped his fingers on the steering wheel."
"Hello Grota Zero Alpha, this is Tanga One-Zero Alpha. Can your Cosmic precede our Ironsides? Over."
Oh, you yellow stain! Pieyn kept his thumb off the transmit. "He wants our scout car to soak up the incendiaries so he doesn't get his paint scratched."
"Hmm. Lucky guess, sir."
"Hello Tanga One-Zero. Solution impossible. My Cosmic cannot squeeze past your Ironsides. Over."
"Hello Grota—" Pieyn jerked the handset away from his ear. Shrieks garbled the line.
"Fuck, they've been hit, sir. I saw a smoke trail."
"Hello Grota Zero Alpha, this is Tanga One-One Delta. My sunray just took an anti-tank missile to his dorsal armour. I can see smoke coming from his turret. Over."
"This is Zero Alpha. Can you see where the shot came from? Over."
"One-One Delta. Affirm. Target eleven o'clock on the roof of the building at the end of the street. Engaging with my pintle. Over."
"Zero Alpha. Roger. Keep up the pressure. Out." Pieyn tried the lead tank. "Hello Tanga One Zero Alpha, this is Grota Zero Alpha. Damage rep. Over."
"C'mon, just flatten the block!"
"He can't get his cannon high enough, Sarn't. Too tight here."
"What's the car doing?" The Horus turned out of the convoy and squeezed around 11D's tank, its sides scraping along the wall and the tank's flank.
"Ezra Five-One, this is Grota Zero Alpha. What are you doing? Over."
"This is Five-One—" Pieyn's ears rang. Black smoke engulfed the Horus. The turret soared in to the air. Flames began to well inside the headless body.
"Aw, you cheeky fucker." The sergeant's hands went white. "Where'd they get those rockets from then?"
"Six, I want Mortar Platoon to debus and form a perimeter around the vehicles. I'll be back!" Pieyn slid from his seat, hit the road, and pelted back along the stationary Chariots. "Sarn't Major!" Pieyn pummelled upon the passenger door of the Chariot four vehicles back. "Stretcher team with security on me!"
"Sir!"
Accompanied by three teams of stretcher-bearers, Pieyn ran to his vehicle. "Sir, it's Zero. He wants an update!"
"Not now, Six."
"Sir, helmet." The sergeant, standing behind his open door with a .338 aimed at the rooftops, bowled a ceramite cover across the Chariot's interior. "Oi, the tank crew's taking off!" Three crewmen in coveralls, loose jacks trailing from their helmets, scattered past him without a backwards glance.
"Leave them, Sarn't. Cover the stretchers!" Pieyn beckoned to the stretchers and took off towards the burning Horus. The noise and reverberation from 11D's Krupnok brought tears to his eyes.
"Fire bomb!" A para shouted. "Contact, rooftop!" Mortar Platoon's rifles and Rekyls barked, ripping chunks of brick and cement up. Tiles splintered in to tiny pieces. The arm holding the burning incendiary reeled back.
"Sir, there's fuel and ammo in there!" A stretcher-bearer cried. Pieyn climbed up on to the Horus's fuel tanks and over the burning maw where the turret had sat. Clanging blows struck the Horus's front glacis. Rounds banged around Pieyn as he reached for the driver's front viewport and lifted it open. Bloody fingers fused to the cotton material of the gloves pattered at Pieyn. "Grab my wrists!" The driver's shining, blistered face slipped free of the flames' embrace. Pieyn pulled and kept on pulling until the driver's feet were out of the inferno. "Can you walk?" Pieyn threw the driver's arm around his neck and hauled him around 11D, underneath the chugging Krupnok. "Aargh, you fucker!" Deafened, he left the driver with the stretcher-bearers and mounted the Horus.
"Sir, they're gone!" The sergeant major tugged on the back of Pieyn's smock. "Better find some cover. You men, remove the stretchers."
Bullet scuffs coated Pieyn's door. Grasping the edge, Pieyn swung inside and slapped his hand against his ear. "Sir, Tanga." Six thrust the vox at Pieyn.
"Hello Tanga, this is Grota Zero Alpha. Over."
"This is Tanga One-One Delta. My sunray is down. His Ironside is cooking off. Can you back the convoy up? I'd like to try for the barricade to the south."
"This is Grota Zero Alpha. Wait. Over."
"Roger. Out."
"Six, all callsigns."
"Yessir." Six fiddled with the channels. "Got it, sir."
"All Grota callsigns, this is Grota Zero Alpha…" 11D's tracks clattered. "Back your vehicles up. Back your vehicles up!" Fat fuel tanks edged towards the Chariot. "C'mon, Sarn't, give it a boot."
"No room to manoeuvre yet, sir." The sergeant reached for his mirror. "We're waiting on Mortar Platoon's Sixers – three of them." The mirror shattered. "Whoa, these civvies aren't playing about!" The sergeant yanked his hand back and lowered the armoured screen.
"Hello, Tanga One-One Delta, this is Grota Zero Alpha. My Sixer cannot move. I am blocked. Over."
"This is One-One Delta. Understood. You've got room to drive around the wrecks. We'll bash through these buildings and meet you further south. Over."
"This is Grota Zero Alpha. Roger and be careful. Out." He's mad taking off on his own.
With five feet of separation, 11D pivoted to the left, clouds of dirt swirling around the tracks. The troop commander ducked inside his cupola and pulled the hatch shut. "Making his own route, is he?" The sergeant switched on the Chariot's wipers.
"All Grota callsigns, this is Grota Zero Alpha. Get moving and watch your dispersion. Out." Pieyn wiped his smarting cheeks on the backs of his gloves. Throne, those two burned alive in the Horus. How the hell could this have happened? "Let's go, Sarn't. We're sticking to our route. Drive 'round the tank. Drive 'round it."
Izuru's left shoulder ached. The force of the recoilless rifle and the shockwave pummelled bruises in to her skin. Two down, one left. Wispy smoke poured from the launcher's bore. Gloves! Izuru pried the casing out, set the weapon down and reached for the last warhead.
"The tank's backing off!" John glassed the dismounted infantry crouched around the Sixers. "Infantry's mounting up."
"Did we win?"
"Wait…No, the tank's turning. Hurry up, stickie!" Izuru eased the dial down to zero and fed the cartridge in to the bore.
"Is she fucking deaf?"
A cloud of dust swamped the street, obscuring everything but the crackling flames. Smoke from the tank's exhaust trailed away through a hole in the buildings. "Where's it going?"
"Nowhere fast. You, stickie, follow me." Izuru abandoned the empty warhead case and hefted the launcher on to her right shoulder. John and another human slung their weapons and clambered up a trellis and on to the adjacent roof.
"Careful, there's loose tiles up there." The human holding the Lugo poked Izuru in the small of the back with the muzzle. "Move, xenos." John helped his companion up on to the sloping roof then the pair scurried across and skidded down to a rickety balcony. Izuru, the launcher balanced upon her shoulder, climbed one-handed. The other two humans followed beneath her.
"Stickie!" John shouted up from the balcony. Izuru danced over the trembling tiles, grasped the edge and lowered herself. "Hurry."
Why the need for haste? Two pairs of feet hit the planks behind her, ammunition jangling. Ahead, glass shattered. Rounds punched through thin plasterboard, sending splinters flying. "In here." John vaulted through an open window and leapt up some stairs. He whistled down to Izuru. "Come on, you'll miss it!"
"Move your arse, xenos." Izuru shouldered open a door at the top of the stairs and brought the launcher over to the parapet. Heaps of wood splinters, stone, and plasterboard exploded from the adjacent building. The tank's body heaved itself through the choke, the plough coated in dirt, and rolled through a stone wall, flattening it.
"Hit it!" Izuru shrugged the launcher from her shoulder and offered it to John. If I can do it, a human should be able to.
"Show it how it's done, Johnny."
"Pop that tin-can open."
"Your loss." John let his rifle sit against his hip and took the launcher.
"Back away now, xenos." The launcher's muzzle wobbled.
John put the launcher on his knee and glared at the trigger group. "Did you…?" The launcher banged, smoke spitting from the flared tail. The rocket soared through the air far above the tank, walloping the corner of a building one hundred yards away. A militiaman, receiving a face-full of backblast, dropped his Granin and clapped his hands over his face. "Reload!"
Not a chance. Izuru stepped back, spun, clamped her arm over an automatic, and dragged the human around in a circle. His weapon let fly with a long, uninterrupted burst, emptying its magazine. Izuru let the human's momentum carry him off his feet and on to his back. She bent her arm and dropped her elbow in to the human's gut. His choked cry Izuru silenced with a fist to his Adam's apple. "No!" The human female, unwounded, dropped her rifle and drew a serrated machete with a curving blade. Izuru waited for the blade to fall then seized the woman's wrist and rammed her other hand against the woman's elbow. The machete fell from her fingers. Izuru whirled the human around and kicked her behind the knee. "No, please—" Izuru snapped the woman's neck and shoved the body away.
Militia appeared on a rooftop opposite where the tank had driven. One pointed at Izuru and shouted. Izuru dived for the Granin stubber and racked the action. The drum affixed to the stubber's underbelly, pregnant with steel-jacketed cartridges, rattled. Izuru laid the open sights upon the militiamen and squeezed the trigger. Puffs of blood and shredded clothing tore through the militia. Dirt from rounds impacting around her flew in to Izuru's eyes. A human threw down his rifle and raised his hands. Izuru turned her sights on him and let loose. A thin haze of dust covered the rooftop in the wake of the shooting, coated with blood and bodies. Her ears numbed, Izuru looked at the steel link belt snaking out of the weapon and the piles of spent cartridges pooling at her feet. Burnt propellant rose in clouds from the Granin's gas ports. She left the weapon and retrieved her Lugo, its corresponding supply of .300 magazines, her wraithbone knife, laspistol, and grenades. Her blade slipped through the electrical tape holding four in a bundle. Keeping the threesome for herself, Izuru crouched and twisted the pin loose. John leant against the low wall, a shining mess of red decorating his thigh. Izuru took his hand and transferred the grenade from her hand to his. "Hold on." The pin Izuru flicked away in to the wrecked houses below. The Lugo resting against her side, Izuru aimed her laspistol and descended the stairs.
At ground level, Izuru tacked on to the treadmarks left by the tank. Its rumble still lingered in the vicinity. The lesser growl of the human convoy came from her right. The humans now turn south, their egos no doubt bruised. Unarmed civilians rushed past Izuru who tapped her forefinger upon the Lugo's body. Her thumb rested on the safety, ready to flick it to 'semi' or 'auto' in an emergency. Apparently damage to civilian property is no concern of his. Izuru noticed a small stuffed toy half buried in the muck left by the tank's treads. How I wish your petty little infights would spell the end of your race. But no, why must you cling on like dried-up excrement on a beast's hindlegs?
On the trail of wrecked buildings left by the tank, Izuru came upon a street the tank had turned on to. The track marks though were heading east instead of west. An error in navigation? Izuru placed her back against a pillar and peered up and down the street. A few humans still scurried about, no doubt looking for holes to hide in. Flee for your lives, worthless beasts. Izuru crossed the street and booted down a door. Empty cages were stacked three high along the side of a hallway. Izuru passed them by and raised a window to climb through. Derelict ground lay beyond with many ups and downs. Water pipes poked out of the ground. Pools of stagnant water lay underneath. The dregs of Norn's lower classes ran about, their rags flapping. Blood of the Nightspear! Izuru's claws dug in to the rotten wood. It cannot be…
Dirt crumbled beneath Izuru's soles. Her Lugo in her hands, she bounded across the dead ground and skidded down a slope upon her backside, her boots slamming in to the human's back. "Mother!" Korsarro bleated. Izuru took hold of the human's top and shunted him down to the pool of water. "Mother, stop!"
"Where is he?" Izuru pushed the human's head underwater. A stream of bubbles rose to the surface. His shoulders bucked.
"He helped us." Korsarro pulled at the human's foot. "Mother, please. Don't hurt him."
"Where is he?" Izuru pulled the human out by his collar and threw him against the slope. "Where is he?" She drove her palm in to his gut. The human screwed up his streaming face and threw up down his front.
"Don't hurt him! The corsair took Ilic. The human saved us. He was kind to us." Korsarro nuzzled the human's shoulder. "I am sorry, friend-human."
"Whelp! You dare touch my children."
"P…Please."
"He is like no other. Please do not harm him."
Izuru drew her laspistol and pointed it at the human's face. "Not in front of the wean," he whispered. "He's a good lad. Don't make him watch."
"Ask for his name, Mother—"
"Be silent, child."
"I'm sorry. I lost his brother. It's on me." The human clutched his stomach. "I'm sorry, Tyssa."
"That is not my name." Izuru lowered the laspistol and flipped it around. "You will take my son to the cathedral and hide in the underground crypts. Observe the spires to your northwest." Izuru pushed the laspistol at the human. "You are responsible for his life. Do not make me regret this."
"Mm-mm. They see me with a stickie wean, they'll kill us both. The lad's safest with you."
Izuru snatched at Korsarro's collar and held him aloft "FLY!" She placed Korsarro upon the lip of the hole and pushed him forwards and set her helmet upon his head. "FLY!"
"What?" The earth quivered underneath the human. A gun tube reared above his head. "Go! Go!" Behind the human, Izuru, and Korsarro, the tank crested the ridge and slammed down on its chassis.
"Take cover in those buildings!" Izuru dropped Korsarro on the ground, knelt, and pulled the pin from a grenade bundle. The fuse burning in her hands, Izuru pitched the bundle at the tank.
"Tyssa!" The tank's bow gun bellowed. A plume of grey smoke coated the front glacis, parting as the bows cut through it. Izuru broke to the right of the tank, outside of the bow gun's field of fire, and reached a row of buildings.
"Korsarro!" Izuru ripped an awning aside.
"Tyssa!" The human crouched with Korsarro in his arms in a derelict shack. "Over 'ere."
"The cathedral—" Flurries of splinters sliced through the building between them. Hot, dry air billowed over Izuru. The projectile whizzed through the thin walls and carried on its flight. Her skin tingling, Izuru snarled at the human. "The cathedral. Now!"
"C'mon, son. Iggery." The human picked up Korsarro and bundled him through a hole in the wall behind him. "Take care." He raised his thumb at Izuru.
He insults me. The cheek! Izuru's fist curled. Aah, Saarania is here. I know it. She left the buildings and crossed through a hovel the tank's shell had obliterated. The beast itself thundered about behind her, taking fire from disgruntled locals. And if I do not find you. T'will be you that finds me. Destiny wills it.